


In Love, and Blood, and Death

by escritoireazul



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Extra Treat, F/F, ToT: Monster Mash, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat: Trick, mild blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 06:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12475852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: Mike Emerson comes to Santa Carla and falls in love.





	In Love, and Blood, and Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skazka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skazka/gifts).



Sweat drips down Mike’s face and into her eyes, but her hands are too full of boxes to wipe it away. California was supposed to be cooler than Phoenix, at least according to her mom and the visits Mike remembers when she was just a kid, gray skies, wind off the water, fog in the trees. But it’s been sunny and bright since they crossed from Arizona, and not even coming down the mountain changed the temperature all that much.

“This place is strange,” Sammy says as she darts past, carrying a long box of her comic books.

“You’ll fit right in,” Mike teases, but there’s no bite to it. She’s too hot and too tired to really work up the energy to pick on her baby sister.

Their mom watches them with sad eyes and a shaky smile. She’s looked like that almost every day since the divorce, and sometimes Mike wants to ride her bike all the way back to Phoenix so she can punch her dad in the face.

(Her Honda’s really too small for a ride that long, but she can dream. And does. In them, she rides something big, maybe the Shadow that came out a couple years ago, 1100cc easy as anything. Sometimes, at night, she can almost feel the rumble of that monster engine between her legs. She sleeps naked, all the covers thrown off when it’s too hot, and there’s been more than one night she’s rubbed one off thinking about a hot girl stretched out on that bike, the vibrations working through them until they’re wet and panting and that girl moans and whimpers and shouts while Mike eats her out.

Those nights feel very far away.)

Mike pushes herself even harder to shake away thoughts of the dreams she had once, the boyfriend she left behind in Phoenix, the friends, what little bit of a happy family they had (or the pretense of it, at least). She carries her weights inside, loads herself down with bags, doesn’t let her mom or Sammy carry anything else.

Her mom kisses her cheek when she’s done. “You’re such a good daughter, Mike,” she says, and doesn’t even mind the sweat pouring down her face. Mike knows she stinks, but hugs her mom anyway. Anything to make the sadness in her eyes go away.

*  
  
Mike takes Sammy to the boardwalk with her that night. She grumbles and whines about it, but doesn’t really mind all that much. Sammy’s good company, when she doesn’t act like a little kid, and the boardwalk is crowded and bright, its shine weird against the darkness of the sky and the ocean beyond. They stand near the main entrance, listening to the screams from the roller coaster, the shouts and clangs and beeps from the arcade, the twinkling music from the carousel, and, under it all, the throb of rock and roll.

Sammy darts ahead of her into the crowd, small enough to fit easily between groups of people. Mike watches her go, feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, then dives in after.

The heat of the day faded fast once the sun set, and now a cold breeze comes off the ocean. Mike’s dressed for the warm day, not a chilly night, in tight jeans and a gray t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. (Most of her shirts are gray and have the sleeves cut off. It almost never gets cold in Phoenix, and she works out too hard to not show off those hard biceps.) Goosebumps race up her bare skin, but the second she’s submerged in the crowd, warmth sweeps over her.

The boardwalk is an assault on all of her senses. Neon and flashing lights, spiked leather and bare skin; screams and tinned music and live wails of songs from the stage; sweat and perfume and hairspray, popcorn and sugar and beer; hot skin and cold, damp air and a breeze across the back of her neck; and saltwater and weed so strong she can taste it.

There’s a woman onstage, nearly naked, skin slick with oil. Her hands work across a saxophone, and her body thrusts into it. The music gets under Mike’s skin, changes the beat of her heart, makes her breath stutter.

And then, through the crowd, Mike sees her. She has long, dark, fiercely curly hair, and pale skin, and a mouth made for kissing. Even in the press of people, her white lace shirt is pristine, and as she moves, swings her hips, claps her hands, raises her arms, she sparkles, spangles on her skirt, bangles at her wrists, stars in her eyes.

Mike stares, mouth open, tasting salt on her tongue, and when the girl looks back, in that moment before her gleeful, open expression shutters, there’s a glorious second of connection, electricity arcing between them.

She follows the girl. Can’t help herself. Feels compelled, like a hook is caught in her mouth, in her chest, in her cunt, and she’s dragged forward through the crowd, Sammy grumbling at her side. She follows the girl, the flash of her feet in thin slippers, the way her hips swing back and forth, her dark curls moving in counterpoint.

Mike loses her not into the crowds, but to a bunch of bikers. They’re bare headed, no helmets, dressed in leather, piercings sparkling in the colorful boardwalk light, and their hair is, to a one, big and wild. The girl gets on the back of one of the bikes, her long hair and long skirt swinging. Through the shadow of her hair, her eyes flick to Mike; they are wide and bright, and Mike wants nothing more than to charge over there and grab her away.

The biker sitting on front of her has spiky blonde hair and a sharp, hungry smile she flashes at Mike.

Mike can feel the rumble of their bikes in her chest, in her stomach, in the throbbing heat between her legs, and she watches them until their taillights have disappeared into the darkness beyond the boardwalk.

Sammy laughs and laughs at her.

*

Mike eyes the piercer, fingers her earlobe. She’s never much cared about jewelry, but she can’t shake the way those bikers looked last night, long earrings dangling, swinging with every move, scattering the light.

“It’s a rip off.” The voice is low, husky, and it sends a shiver through her.

Mike starts, whirls. Finds herself face to face with that girl from the other night. She’s wearing almost the same outfit, and the curve of her breasts are easy to make out through the thin white tank top. Her hair is wilder than ever, and her cheeks are flushed.

Mike realizes she’s been staring a long time. Swallows. Says, “Hi.” It’s all she can manage, but it’s better than gaping at a beautiful girl.

There’s a slow curl of a smile. “If you want your ear pierced, I’ll do it.”

Mike nods, too eager but she can’t help herself. The girl moves away from the ear piercing booth, and Mike follows. The boardwalk is as noisy and bright around them as ever, but it feels like they’re in a little bubble, just the two of them.

After a few minutes, she starts to feel ridiculous. “What’s your name?” she asks. Thank god her voice is more or less back to normal now. Still a little shaky. She shoves her hands into her pockets, angles it so the hard muscles of her arms stand out.

The girl looks up at her again through her dark cloud of hair. “Star,” she says.

“Oh.” Mike laughs. That, at least, gives them something to talk about. She can work with it. “Your parents too, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Star sways away from her; Mike steps closer. Is drawn closer. She can’t even tell anymore.

“Ex-hippies.” Mike flashes a smile. “I came this close to being called Moon Child or Moon Beam or Moon Light or something.” She realizes how that sounds. “My mom really liked the night, I guess.” There’s a long moment of silence before she adds, even though she’s babbling and she knows it, “Star’s great. I like Star.”

That earns her a little laugh. “Me too.”

She tries to wait for Star to ask her name, but they’ve barely taken two steps before it’s bubbling out of her mouth. “I’m Mike.”

“Mike’s great. I like Mike.” Again that smile through her hair, and Mike can’t stop grinning.

*

Mike has never wished for that Shadow more than she does facing Dana and her gang. Her little Honda can’t keep up, even if she was a better rider, and from the wildness in their expressions, they’re more reckless than her by far.

Her whole body is thrumming when she careens to a stop at the edge of Hudson’s Bluff, when she drives her fist into Dana’s face. She splits her lip, and blood stains Dana’s pale, perfect skin. She doesn’t bother wiping it away, just smiles, blood on her teeth, blonde hair spiked, blue eyes dangerous.

Mike knows better. She knows better. She’s seen the way Star looks at Dana, equal parts terror and lust. She’s known predatory girls before, wolves in pretty skin, all sparkling make-up and perfect hair and sharp teeth.

She knows better, and still she falls.

*

Her throat burns. Her gums ache. She can see too much, tiny fissures in the stone half a mile away, individual grains of sand. Can smell everything, until she’s sick with it, but there’s nothing inside her to throw up. She’s not hungry. She’s thirsty, but nothing she swallows slakes her thirst.

“Mike,” Star says, and she’s crying, and Mike’s name sounds like a scream. “Mike. Mike.”

Three times her name, and Star must be a witch, because it feels like a spell. They fall into bed together, tangled limbs, Star’s hair sticking to their bodies. She tastes like sweat and blood. She tears at Mike’s hair when Mike buries her face between Star’s legs, leaves welts down her back. Mike takes it all, and more, and gives as good as she gets, bites Star’s mouth, leaves bruises on her inner thighs.

Star lays her out and devours her, drinking her down like the blood she refuses, night after night, until Mike’s skin feels turned inside out, raw and painful, and still Star’s mouth works against her, still she uses lips and teeth and tongue, and still Mike begs her for more.

And always, in the background, in the shadows of the cave, in the bright lights of the boardwalk, in the strange cold artificial dusk of the beach just past the boardwalk, Dana watches and waits.

*

Dana wraps one strong hand around Mike’s wrist, and that touch is enough to hold her in place. She digs her nails in anyway, until she draws blood. The smell washes over them, and though it’s her own blood, it draws a thirst from Mike that sends her spiraling into a mess of red and black, the world spinning around her.

She comes back to herself with one of Dana’s hands over her mouth, the other digging into Mike’s hip, nails sharp as her teeth. There’s something monstrous about her, even before she shows her true face, and it attracts Mike as much as it repels her.

“You think yourself such a strong girl,” Dana whispers against her ear, then bites, hard, at the new piercing. Mike cries out against her palm, tries to get leverage to sink her teeth into the meaty flesh at the base of her thumb, but Dana is too quick, too smart for that. “But look at you. Safe little bike, safe little home, safe little family.” She snaps her teeth, just missing Mike’s cheek; Mike shudders, feels herself growing warm and wet.

“Fuck you,” Mike mumbles. Even if her mouth had been free, it would have come out weak.

Dana cocks an eyebrow. “You think that makes you brave?” She bares her teeth again, slides her fingers under the waistband of Mike’s jeans. “I cannot count how many times I’ve fucked before a kill.” Her fingers are cold against Mike’s bare skin, her nails sharp.

“I could take you right here.” Dana leans in close; she’s tall but whip-cord thin. Still, the press of her body holds Mike against the wall until the air is forced from her lungs. “I could fuck you and drain you dry, and no one would notice. No one would care.”

They’re in the shadows at the back end of the boardwalk, and the Giant Dipper rises above them. Screams split the night, and somewhere, there is real terror mixed into the adrenaline-fueled shrieks of joy.

Dana twists their bodies until she can shove her hand between Mike’s legs. She’s not gentle at all, and even as wet as Mike is, the angle is terrible. Nails across her clit make her cry out into Dana’s hand, and then she’s begging, mouth and lips and teeth against Dana’s palm, hips angled forward.

“I could make it feel so good.” Dana’s breath is hot against her throat. She stinks of old blood and dirt and stagnant water -- the smell of the cave clings to her, to all of them always -- but Mike grabs her, pulls her closer still. “My mouth on you, get my whole hand inside. Bite that big artery in your thigh, bleed you out while you come.”

Mike whines, high and tight, and Dana’s thumb settles on her clit, pushing hard. There’s too much friction and more than a little pain and it all feels so much, so good, that she comes and comes and comes.

Dana teases her, fangs in her throat, making her burn.

*  
  
Star cups her face in both hands. Her eyes are bright with tears, but her cheeks dry, her jaw set. Her skirts are gathered around them, falling over Mike’s bare legs. She’s in a thin tank top and boxer shorts. It’s early, nearly sunrise, and if Star doesn’t leave soon, she’ll be trapped at Mike’s house. Sort of trapped. She can handle the light, sometimes. Smells like sun and salt and sand, sometimes.

“We can run,” she says, and her hands shake. “Maybe out there, away from,” she shakes her head, doesn’t say Dana’s name, “we won’t be so tempted.”

It’s the truth and a lie all at the same time. Mike tips back her head, stares at her ceiling. Wants to laugh. Wants to cry. Wants to punch Dana until her face is a mess of blood and broken bones and scattered teeth.

“God,” Star says and drops her face into her hands. “I love her, I love her, I love her.”

Mike knows. She takes Star’s hands, pulls them down until she can see her eyes.

“I love you,” Star says, voice strangled.

Mike knows that too.

*

Mike slams Dana against the wall. (Dana lets herself be slammed.) Kisses her hard and painful, drawing blood. Licks it from her lips. Feels her own teeth go sharp.

“Just one drink,” Dana whispers, but her voice is everywhere. “One drink, and you’ll be done.”

No Mike thinks, but what she says, into the kiss, is yes yes yes.

*

Star stares, fists pressed to her mouth. Mike’s still holding the man, one of the local gang members. She can feel his pulse, sluggish, hear his breathing stutter and catch.

“Sta-ar.” Dana sing-songs her name over and over and over. There are other voices with her, none at all, a choir, a scream. She twists the world around them, twists their thoughts, makes them hate her and love her and believe.

Mike touches her fingers to the jagged wound at his throat, holds her hand out to Star. There’s a long, terrible moment, and then Star is on her knees in front of her, clutching her wrist in both hands, sucking blood from her fingers. Takes them down her throat until Mike thinks she might dig fangs into her wrist and swallow her hand whole.

Star buries her face into the man’s throat. Tears into him, snarling, gulping, making noises in the back of her throat Mike has only ever heard her make during sex.

Dana crouches next to them, long black coat flaring out behind her.

“What a good girl,” she says and slides her hand into Star’s curls. Meets Mike’s gaze over Star’s head. There’s blood smeared across her mouth, and her nipples are hard. She smells like death and sex, and Mike wants to lose herself in Dana’s cunt.

Has lost herself, already. Has fallen. Has drowned.

*

The Shadow is new and exactly like her dreams and a curse; the black metal is smeared with blood. It throbs between her legs, and Mike shudders when she twists the throttle. Dana smirks as she watches, and the screams of the others, racing away from the boardwalk, out into the sleepy seaside town, fall back to them. Star wraps her arms around Mike’s waist, places her palms flat along her stomach.

Mike tastes blood in the air, and they ride.


End file.
